A Very Spoooky Halloween
by TheExitDoor
Summary: Squee wants to go out trick-or-treating. Johnny thinks it's safer if he goes with him. COMPLETE.
1. October 30th

**A Very Spooooky Halloween**

**This is my first fanfiction. I hope I have written it well and I especially hope that I have kept the characters in character because it pisses me off when they're not.**

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**Chapter 1: October 30th**

Squee, or Todd Casil as very few called him, marched along home from school in high spirits, a quite unusual thing for him to be doing, on a cool autumn afternoon. So far the day had gone fairly well by Squee's standards: the teacher had not mocked him in class, he'd found a little shelter from other kids in the sanctuary in the school library, though all the books there weren't to his liking and had yellowed pages dotted with black fungus. The leaves were different shades of orange and yellow and no birds were attacking him. And to top it all off it was October 30th, only one day until Halloween.

Squee, as fear-prone as he was, liked the holiday. He liked the prospect of getting candy for dressing up as something spooky. Granted some of the costumes the other kids wore scared him, but he could set that worry aside for candy. His parents really weren't the kind to give him some.

_Better keep those big eyeballs open_, said a voice from Squee's backpack. This was Shmee, his stuffed bear. Squee had had him as long as he could remember and had always talked to the bear. And the bear talked back. Shmee protected Squee from all the horrors of his life, which were a lot. Shmee was clumsily stitched together with thick thread, a consequence of his first encounter with the scary neighbour man. The scary neighbour man was Johnny, who lived in house #777. He acted kindly towards Squee, but that didn't stop him from scary the living bejeezus out of the kid. Long story short, Johnny went momentarily crazy and proceeded to stab Squee's bear until he remembered where he was. Squee's parents really didn't pay that much attention to him, so he was forced to mend his own bear.

"What did you say, Shmee?" the little boy said, interrupted from his musings.

_I told you to watch out. You've had a good day, but don't get your hopes up. You know these things don't last. Something bad is going to happen._

"Oh, Shmee," he replied, a little of his patented paranoia returning to his voice, "maybe today is different. I'm almost home and nothing bad has happened so far."

The bitter cartoonist that ruled his universe must have been a good sense of irony because at that moment a dirty, small, familiar, grey car parked itself before the house he was passing. In his joy, Squee hadn't realized he was walking by house #777. From the car out stepped an excessively thin, black clad man. Annoyance was evident in his face. This was Johnny C., the crazy neighbour man. Johnny's clothes were dark and tattered with the logo Z? on the front. He had long boots with steel tips like cloven hooves. To Squee's horror, there were red flecks and splatters on Johnny's face and clothes and there were some muffled sounds coming from Johnny's trunk.

_Told ya._

"Squeeee..." Squee whimpered.

Johnny strode to the back of the car and bought his fist several times on the trunk.

"Shut up! Shut the FUCK up!" he screeched whoever was there. He snarled tiredly and turned to see Todd. "Squeegee!" he exclaimed happily when he saw him. "How ya doin'? I was just at the park admiring the leaves until... well..." He pointed at his car. "He and his buddies came along and ruined by admiration of nature and one thing leads to another and... how was school?"

"F-fine," he peeped.

"Good. Well, I've got work to do so I can't talk to you right now. Sorry."

_Good thing too, Squee. You don't want to talk to him._

Todd saw Johnny's eye twitch. Only Squee and Johnny could hear Shmee talk and Johnny usually tried to stab the bear or set it on fire. Johnny thought he was evil, something that Squee didn't believe. Apart from the occasional suggestion to put rat poison in his Dad's coffee, Shmee was harmless.

"Yes, I'll go home now. Bye!"

Squee rushed off to house #779 as fast as he could.

"That fucking bear," Johnny hissed and turned his attention back to the man in the car.

Todd's happy mood was ruined now. Try as hard as he might, it wasn't salvageable and was made even less so when he heard his mother's drowsy voice respond to the door slamming shut.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Mom."

"...who?"

"Your son, Todd."

A long silence.

"Mom?"

"...I had a son?"

"Go to your room so I can continue the miserable existence you brought upon me!" yelled his dad from his office.

Todd sighed sadly and made his way up to his room. So much for today.

In his room, Squee had already laid out his Halloween costume for tomorrow: a Dracula-inspired outfit. It was a simple combination of an old cape, old shirt, black pants and plastic fangs. He used the same costume every year; it wasn't like his Dad would buy him a new one. Squee was pretty sure that his father had bought him the one costume just so Squee could get out one night and feed himself on candy. Also, he hoped that one of the people giving out candy would kidnap him.

Squee had almost-peaceful sleep that night, had not Johnny come to his window and started tapping on the glass. Squee whimpered and hid Shmee under his pillow.

"Have I used up all your Bactine yet?" Johnny asked as he climbed in through the window.

Squee squeaked and gave him bottle of Bactine from under his bed. He kept a lot of Band-Aids and disinfectants there for Johnny's cuts and scrapes from his 'job'.

"Thanks. Fucker just wouldn't die," the homicidal maniac explained. A twisted grin broke out on his face and he poured the entire contents of the plastic bottle over his head. "But I got him in the end. FUCK! WHY MUST THE BACTINE STING SO MUCH?!"

Squee yelped and prayed that his parents didn't wake up.

"It's in my eyes! Damn you, Bactine!"

Miraculously, Squee's parents didn't wake up. Johnny eventually stopped his cursing and sat down on the bed.

Johnny looked around the room and his eyes focused on Squee's costume. His gaze suddenly became distant and he went very quiet. This was scaring Squee.

"Mr. Neighbour man?" he asked timidly.

Johnny jerked out of his daydream and looked around in alarm until he remembered where he was. He struggled to regain his composure.

"S-sorry, Squeegee. I was just thinking about my Halloweens as a kid." Johnny seemed to zone out again. "...can't remember as much as I thought..." Johnny wrapped his spindly arms around himself. "Sh-shit..."

"Johnny?" Squee said nervously as the killer started to curl into a ball on his bed.

Johnny's eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice. He unwrapped himself and stared at Squee wide-eyed. "You're not going to go _out_ tomorrow, are you?"

"Y-yes! Why?"

"Why? It's Tuesday tomorrow! _Tuesday_, Squee! What if the UFOs get you? Are your parents going with you, at least?"

Squee shook his head. Johnny took a deep breath to calm himself down a bit.

"That was a stupid question. You parents are very fitting for their role towards you." Johnny smiled excitedly at Squee. "I guess _I_'ll go with you."

Squee wished that the floor would eat him right now.

"Yes! I haven't done this in a long time," Johnny said walking over to the window. "A very long time. Pick you up tomorrow at sunset, Squee! Night-night!"

Johnny slammed the window shut behind him and bounced happily back to his house.

"Shut up!" yelled Squee's father from his bedroom.

_I told you good things didn't last, Squee. Didn't I?_

**End Chapter 1**

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**Well, wasn't that nice? Give me reviews and such and such.**

**--Exit**


	2. Preshow Jitters

**A Very Spoooky Halloween**

**This is going well. This is nice.**

**This is nice. Thank you for reviews.**

**This is the chapter in which Squee gets a ride home from the Antichrist's mother, gets attacked by a vicious dustbunny and is once again subjected to the disappointing reality of his parents.**

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**Chapter 2: Pre-Show Jitters**

"Nithe cothtume, Thquee," a skoolkid sneered at him through plastic fangs. Other kids giggled cruelly with him. "It lookth jutht like the one you were wearing latht year."

It was now the 31st of October, Halloween, and all the kids in his class were dressed up for this special day. There were fairies, werewolves and all other sorts of things, ghoulish or not. There was even a kid dressed up as a Styrofoam cell phone sitting uncomfortably at his desk; the costume didn't let him bend his knees too well and he was constantly accidentally setting off a ring. Some kids threw him out the window when they got tired of the sound. Pepito was frowning dressed in his normal clothes glaring at the kids who had jeering at Squee. Squee, dressed up in his annual Dracula outfit, was giving worried glances to his desk and Pepito.

It was sad that Squee's only friend was the Antichrist. Actually, he was Squee's self-proclaimed friend. Pepito, much like Johnny, scared the crap out of him. At first he had had a different friend. This other kid's name was Andy and he had stuck up for him once. Of course, all future friendship was lost when an evil little dog dragged Andy back to his doghouse and ate him alive.

Pepito dressed in black clothing and had a lock hanging around his neck. His hair was black and grew naturally as a Mohawk. His eyes were purple and red, his skin was sickly green and he had small horns growing out of his forehead. With all those devilish characteristics to him, Squee wasn't sure why nobody in his class believed that Pepito was the son of Satan. The wicked child had admitted it himself on his first day. But then again more than half of the kids in the whole couldn't recite the alphabet, so it wasn't like they were exceptionally bright. As for the teachers, they just didn't care or were just as stupid as their pupils.

Their decrepit, vulture-like teacher at the front of the classroom snarled as the bell sounded to begin class. She straightened up, her spine making cracking sounds as she did and pressed a button on her desk. A big hole opened under a particularly noisy student and the child and the entire desk fell through. The class went silent.

"Class, today you will deliver your essays about this _doomed_ holiday," the teacher said. Her eyes scanned the room for a victim. "Pepito, you go first. Begin now!"

Pepito got up and walked to the front of the classroom and faced the other kids. His paper appeared in his hands in a burst of demonic fire. A kid muttered 'showoff' in the back of the classroom. The Antichrist ignored that.

"The history of Halloween is very marred and twisted, and its truth is hidden," Pepito began. "The fact that it falls on many a religious day is purely coincidental and only disguises its sinister nature. On this day, the barrier between Hell and the mortal world becomes thin, allowing for cursed creatures to pass through. In the past nothing much was done. A few demons escaped and wrecked some havoc, lit a few fires, poisoned a few people, but never anything that served a point. These demons only sought easy entertainment. Today Father sends out a few more educated demons to prepare the world for the End by weakening certain spots and creating new diversions to distract people from any noticeable deterioration. In the past we would have wrecked havoc, but times change and we must devise new ways of breeding destruction. We like letting loose ideas for reality shows and ridiculous TV shows on this night. Also, we make deals with confused cults who wish to align themselves to our side.

"You wouldn't believe the amount of confused teenagers who decide to make sacrifices in our name on this night. As if we really need them. However, they are a great source of entertainment. I suppose that many of you are doomed to form part of these cults, seeking answers from a power that doesn't care. And there are such un-doomed few amon—"

"Where's your costume?" a kid yelled from the back of the class.

The devil boy's eyes glowed red and he trembled with indignation, eventually ripping his paper in half and burning it with the evil, green energy that made his hands glow.

"You will be SILENT!" shouted Pepito and promptly melted that kid's face off with his super Antichrist powers.

The class was loud and chaotic until most of the kids were burned, fried, crispy or unconscious. The kids littered across the classroom moaned in pain and wept for their mommies. The teacher stirred from the catatonic state she had gone into during Pepito's presentation, but remained uncaring of the damage done to her pupils and her classroom.

"Excellent reference to the doom of mankind, Pepito," the teacher said. "You get an A."

"Thank you, Ma'am," he said and went to sit down next to Squee, the only kid who hadn't suffered. Well, he hadn't suffered _physically. _Squee was sitting bug-eyed and choking on the plastic fangs he sucked in in terror during Pepito's little rampage.

They sat quietly (except for the other kids' moaning and Squee's choking) while the teacher hissed on about their education was worthless and how they were all going to work in staple factories until the bell rang.

"Class dismissed."

--

Squee started walking home with a cold weight in his stomach. He kept thinking about how Johnny had offered to go with him for his trick-or-treating rounds last night. He wondered if he would survive to see November.

A creamy white car stopped next to him with a screech. Squee squeed and fell on his bottom, getting dirt on his already worn and grubby cape. Even though the car's color was pale, its windows were dark, smoky and menacing. The car window slowly rolled down and the face of a woman popped out.

"Todd Casil!" she said happily. "How nice to see you again."

Squee smiled nervously. This was Mrs. Diablo. Her hair was curly and blonde and her eyes were squinty and shiny from all her joy. A cross dangled from her neck; she was a good Christian woman. In fact, she was one of the nicest people Squee knew, a real human being amongst simians, a diamond amongst rhinestones. Her whole being gave out vibes of goodness and compassion. She was the wife of Satan and the mother of the Antichrist.

"Hi," Squee said meekly.

"Would you like a ride home?" she asked kindly.

One of the car's doors opened and some smoke and soft Christian tunes came out. Squee could see Pepito sitting in the car with a cute little dog with floppy ears and sharp teeth next to him. Pepito cracked a smile at him before he returned to his usual gloomy demeanor.

"Well?"

Squee didn't get a chance to answer because he immediately found himself in the car. He wasn't sure whether he had been pulled in by Pepito or climbed in himself. All he knew was that it was hellishly warm in the car. He would have felt more uncomfortable if Pepito's mother wasn't there.

"I'm so glad you agreed, Todd" she said before starting the car and smiled at him. "Such a nice boy."

They had ridden in silence for a few minutes with no talking. It would have been silence, but Mrs. Diablo was humming to her music and Pepito's dog kept coughing up sparks. Squee noted that last one with a wide-eyed stare.

"It's such a pity you can't trick-or-treat with Pepito tonight," Mrs. Diablo said.

"Oh." Squee was glad was that, but was curious why. In July, Pepito had invited him over to his house for fireworks and hamburgers. Squee's parents left him there three hours earlier than planned, but the Diablos were happy to have him. He had played a good while in the Antichrist's room, which was full of all the toys a child could desire. Squee found very unsettling how many of the toys made muffled noises that sounded like pleas. Pepito muttered something about souls and showed him his videogame console. The hamburgers and hot dogs he ate there tasted strange and the barbecue itself smelled like sulphur. The fireworks had been very nice and exploded in bright bursts of fire. "Why can't he?"

"Father usually has business to attend to on Halloween and makes me help. I said so in class. I hate it, but Mother and I can't convince him otherwise."

"A boy his age should be able to trick-or-treat," she sniffed. "Honestly, Pepito, I tried to get him to let you out, but your Father can be so stubborn sometimes."

"Yes, Mother," her son replied. "It would be nice if you came with me to assist Father, amigo."

Squee briefly considered what would be better: trick-or-treating with Johnny or helping Satan with whatever spooky things he did. …Crud.

"Um… no?" he said.

"Oh." Pepito seemed disappointed, but shook it off quite soon.

"This is Woofles. She's my dog," he said pointing at the little dog. It gave an adorable, high-pitched yap and coughed up a bright orange flame. "Want to pet her?"

"This is your house, right?" Pepito's mom said as she stopped in front of house #779. Squee found it depressing that he'd have to leave a perfect mother to go back to his.

"Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Diablo."

Pepito grabbed Squee's arm. His eyes had a sinister red glow. He said in a deep, demonic voice, "Are you sure you don't want to join Father's army of darkness? We have a dental plan."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay then," Pepito said, his eyes going back to their not-so-normal normal colors. "Bye!"

As the two Diablos rode back home, Mrs. Diablo said, "He's such a nice boy. We should give him more rides home."

--

Squee was hiding under his bed with Shmee held close to his chest. He was nestled between some notebooks, his first-aid reserve and a large lump of dust that showed signs of consciousness. He was hoping that Johnny would forget what he had suggested yesterday. And if he did remember, he hoped that the space under the bed would serve as a good hiding place.

_Squee, let go. I can't breathe and you're spreading out my stuffing unevenly_, Shmee gasped in the boy's vice-like grasp.

Squee didn't relent and started squeezing harder. "I don't want the scary neighbour man to go with me. I'd like it better if we went alone."

_At least we know you're in your right mind. That Johnny is a bad man. Best hope he doesn't go berserk and try to cut you into Squee jerky._ Squee whimpered. _Sorry. Can you ease up on the grip?_

He muttered an apology and tried to ease his nerves. "It's okay, Shmee. I know you're only trying to warn me."

_I can protect you_, Shmee said. _If he takes you, you can take some of my stuffing with you like you do for school sometimes._

That was a good idea. Squee immediately extracted some of the bear's cottony insides and put it in his pocket. "Thanks."

He froze when he heard the sound of bony knuckles rapping on glass. Squee held his breath.

_Shh! He's at the window. _

"We're gonna die," he choked out and resumed squashing his bear.

_Shhhhh!_

"We're gonna die and we're gonna have to live in Satan's basement and be made into soul toast. I don't want to be soul toast!"

_Not if I can help it, so quiet_, Shmee hissed.

The tapping persisted for a while and suddenly stopped. Squee was about to ask Shmee if he went away when the smash of newly broken glass rang through the room. The little boy whimpered as he heard the sound of steel-tipped boots stepping on broken glass. He could see the boots pass by through a little gap beneath the bed. Squee wriggled back until his back was pressed against the wall.

_Be very, very quiet,_ Shmee whispered. Outside the homicidal maniac hesitated for a second when Shmee spoke and looked around. The bear went quiet and waited until Johnny continued searching before speaking again. _And pay no attention to the sentient dust bunny trying to eat your legs._

"D-dust bunny?" Squee stuttered.

Against his better judgment, he looked around. An extremely large ball of grey dust with ears, sharp buckteeth and terrifying yellow eyes was breathing heavily behind him. The dust bunny gave a loud screech and snapped at the boy. Squee shrieked and dove out of the way, but the dust bunny sank its claws into his cape. He tried to scrabble away, but the beast was pulling him back.

Johnny's gloved hand came in, grabbed the terrified child's wrist and yanked him out. The dust bunny gave a final screech and let go of the boy and retreated to the dark safety of under the bed.

"Sorry about the window," Johnny said. "Ready to go?"

Avoiding the killer was impossible now and slumped his shoulders in resignation. "Let me get my candy bucket. Can you wait at the front door?"

Johnny nodded happily, apologized for the window he broke once more and climbed out of it. Squee could hear him rush over the grass towards the front of the house.

Squee went into the kitchen where his mother was currently dissolving pills in her orange juice. She turned around and looked at her son. Her eyes were glassy and didn't really see anything; she was doped again. She tilted her head, trying to remember who he was, and then walked out of the room with an indifferent shrug.

Squee sighed and got his festively orange candy bucket from the counter top and considered hiding under the sink instead of meeting Johnny. But maybe there were mutant spiders something under there or something like that.

Ding dong!

The doorbell rang. Before his father could yell, Squee rushed to the front door.

Ding dong ding dong ding ding dong ding!

Gulping, he grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. Johnny was waiting out there pressing the doorbell continuously for fun. He stopped and looked down at Squee, smiling with juvenile excitement and looking sane and relatively harmless. He looked almost childlike in his seeming innocence, like someone trustworthy. Squee smiled back.

"Mom! Dad! I'm going out for spookyday candy!"

"Make yourself useful and bring back some milk."

"Have fun in college, honey."

Squee winced and looked up at Johnny. His blissful expression had given way to dangerously narrowed eyes and a frown almost breaking into a snarl.

The little boy quickly closed the door behind him to protect his unloving family. "Let's go."

**End Chapter 2**

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I fixed a spelling mistake. Should be alright now.

--Exit


	3. Squee goes Nuts

**A Very Spoooky Halloween**

**Thank you for reviews.**

**Thanks to **Nikka **for pointing out a little error I overlooked.**

**The chapter in which they trick-or-treat,Johnny kills a fat lady using a knife and an apple, check for nasties in the candy, where Johnny runs off to get his car, where the means kids close in and where Squee goes crazy. **

**Shmee is a little, fuzzy bastard.**

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**Chapter 3: Squee goes Nuts**

Being the time of the year it was, it was dark by 6 PM. The autumn night's air was cool and not particularly different from any other October night, Halloween or no Halloween. It was cool enough for them to see their breaths hang in the air before dissipating. They crushed fire-colored leaves underfoot and the metal tips Johnny's boots clinked against the sidewalk with each step he took. Squee was extremely aware of the other jingling that came his companion: a jingling coming from the inside of Johnny's black backpack.

Their street seemed oddly empty, childless for the day of the year it was. Maybe it was the feel that this particular street gave out, its atmosphere. That was maybe why it was the center of unpleasant activity and odd yet equally unpleasant random events. Maybe it was because of the aura that emanated from a certain dilapidated house belonging to one homicidal maniac. The point was that not many things survived this street and anything normal evaded it. There were people living in the houses, but most of them were old. There was a couple of the unpleasant, trailer-trash sort that managed to get their hands on a piece of property here. There was a terrifying couple down the street that were horribly _normal._ Johnny said they were aliens or some sort of hideous being masquerading as human.Because of the tendency to die a horrible, bloody death within a month's living in this street, the houses' prices were very low.

There were some traditional Halloween decorations at the houses, even though they would most likely go to waste because of the lack of children for reasons aforementioned. Johnny told Squee didn't matter much because it meant more candy for them. Some of the houses had plastic skeletons, witches or jack-o-lanterns with wicked grins, narrow eyes and orange flames flickering inside them.

They had knocked on some of the doors, but not many had responded, mostly because old people with hearing problems that lived there couldn't hear them. The few that did answer their doors were people giving out old or bad candy that had been waiting to be given to a child for years. The horribly normal family had given them unnerving smiles and given them a few apples. Johnny muttered a curse and told Squee that it should be illegal to give out anything healthy out on Halloween. They would have left the first street with nobody killed if it hadn't been for one woman. A fat lady with an ugly muumuu, dirty face and breathing problems was very rude to them. She told them to go away because she was missing the Opera Windy show and that she didn't have any candy.

"What the hell are you talking about, lady?" Johnny said, pointing accusingly at the woman's face. It had wet, brown streaks on it. "There's bits of chocolate on your face!"

"What do you care for, you twiggy, little rrrrghh twig!" she said, struggling for an insult. Aren't you a bit old for trick-or-treating? What the heck are you supposed to be anyway? That's one shit costume if you ask me."

"You don't even need the candy. Look at you! God, you're so revoltingly large!" Johnny made a face and handed her some of the fruit they had been given. "Here. You need this more than we do. Seriously."

The woman's face had turned red with anger and she tried to slam the door shut, but Johnny held it open with his hand. For as man as skinny as he was, he was surprisingly strong.

"Don't slam the door in my face. It's rude!" Johnny snarled. Johnny hated people with bad manners amongst many other things people tended to be. He thrust the fruit into the woman's face. "Take the fucking apple and get healthy!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the woman screeched as she continued trying to close there door. "Are you crazy? I'm calling the police! Wait here." And she turned around and waddled back inside, breathing loudly and heavily.

"Can you believe this?" Johnny asked Squee rhetorically. "You go ahead."

Squee nodded and left. Johnny went into the house after the woman, throwing the apple into the air and catching it like a ball. Then he tossed it with dangerous speed and precision at the head of a huge humanoid shadow using the phone. The shadow fell with a thump that made the pictures on the walls shake. Johnny drew out a sinister, shining blade out of his backpack and advanced. As she was covered in a layer of crumbs, chocolate and fried chicken grease, he made a mental note to wash his hands late before going into a rant about kindness, gluttony and personal hygiene.

Squee had started walking away, breaking into a run when he heard an injured howl coming from the fat woman's house. Johnny eventually caught up with him and dropped several chocolate bars into Squee's orange bucket. He was devoid of the apple and had come back with a few bloodstains on his face that he missed. Any on marks his clothes didn't matter because they were dark clothes anyway.

"She took it in the end," he said with a grin. "Oh, you should have been there, Squee. There was a mountain of candies inside her house!"

They had to walk a few blocks before they reached an area where little witches with plastic brooms and aluminum foil robots roamed. All the kids gave Johnny scared/nasty looks. As for Squee, he received angry looks of kids who were hoping to egg him, wrap him in toilet paper and hang him upside down from a tree like they did last year. The little vampire was glad that Johnny was with him when the mean kids left in a disappointed huff.

Johnny and Squee had already visited a many houses and Squee's orange candy bucket was overflowing with sugary goodness. Johnny had to carry some of the candy in his backpack. They had stopped for a moment to sit on the sidewalk and eat some candy to lighten the load.

"Okay," Johnny said as he rooted through the candy. "As your chaperon, I demand payment of all the cherry candies in here. Yes?"

Johnny didn't wait for an answer. He simply went through their pile and selected cherry Twistlylisters, cherry lollipops, cherry gummy cherries, cherry night crawlers and anything cherry he could find. Squee didn't mind; his haul was exceptionally plentiful this year and there would be more than enough left for him. Squee told him he could have anything he wanted. This statement devoid of childish gluttony surprised Johnny.

"Waaaaait," Johnny said suspiciously. "Are you an alien posing as a child?"

"No."

"Lies!" he yelled. "What did you do with Squeegee?"

Squee have his patented scared squee. Johnny stopped his yelling and looked at him.

"Nope, you're Squee, all right," the killer said and he went back to the candy.

The homicidal maniac took great care in inspecting all of Squee's pieces of candy before he was allowed to eat them. He had already discarded a chocolate bar filled with needles, a syringe from a packet of Twistylers and some marshmallow peeps that were completely covered in mold. Squee was growing so terrified of the contents of the candy that he was barely eating any.

_Don't eat anything he touches Squee,_ the Shmee stuffing in his pocket said. _I bet he's poisoning it_.

"No," Squee denied quietly.

"90 percent sawdust?" Johnny said as he read the wrapper of a Poop bar. He made a face and put it in the pile of bad candies. "Did you say something, Squee?"

"No! Nothing!" the boy shouted and gave a big, nervous smile.

_Go for that Cuppincake. Quick! Before Johnny contaminates it_ _with his evil!_

Squee reached out to grab it, but Johnny snatched it a second before he could.

"Wait, I'm not done checking this one. Eat one of your Dirty Chicken Chocolate bars."

_Don't._

Squee unwrapped the candy. The Dirty Chicken Chocolate bar had white feathers and globs of meat in the chocolate.

_Ew. Follow my advice on this one._

"That's okay, Johnny. I'm not hungry for chicken chocolate right now."

"I don't blame you," Johnny said, staring at the feathery candy. He continued inspecting the Cuppincake. "I don't think Halloween is a very safe night. There are a lot of sick people out there just waiting to kill you. Just look at this!"

Johnny broke the Cuppincake open and a rusty razorblade tinkled onto the asphalt. Squee stared at the tarnished, chipped edges of the blade and squeaked out something about disease.

"Yeah, tetanus threat," Johnny said rubbing his chin. He leaned back, rested his weight on his hands and smiled at Squee. "Well, despite some less than wholesome candies, I have to say this is a pretty decent amount of candy. It could be more, of course."

Squee nodded shyly in agreement and crunched into a lollipop. Some of the candy came from trick-or-treating, but nearly half of their total was thanks to Johnny's presence. It seems that people were more willing to give candy when you were accompanied by someone as dark and threatening as Johnny, when somebody else was making sure they weren't giving too little. Squee had had his fair share of candy coming from people who deemed his big, puppy-like eyes, cape and plastic fangs cute; he relied on that every year. But there were some who gave it out of fear of being judged. Or maybe just to get the suspicious looking man away as soon as possible. Johnny had also broken into houses of people who told them that they didn't have any candy and taken possession of all sugary treats there.

Squee was worried he'd have to go to the dentist and that he would put that scary drill in his mouth and take out his teeth. Dr. Paingood said anesthetics were too expensive for their budget. Squee didn't want to have to eat mush for the rest of his life.

"Yes. This calls for Brainfreezies!" Johnny said happily. He paused and then added bitterly, "We get that milk your dad was so kindly asking for."

Squee dipped his head sadly as he thought about his parents. Johnny saw this and hesitantly patted Squee on the head.

Johnny got up and brushed dirt off the seat of his pants and put a cherry-flavoured lollypop in his mouth. He looked up at the moon shining in the dark sky happily.

"It's such a lovely night tonight. I'm going to get my car so we can go to the 24/7. I'll be back before you can say 'ravenous wall monster.' Don't move."

The killer bolted down the street sucking happily on his lolly.

_Now's your chance, Squee. Grab the candy and run._

"But he's being nice, Shmee."

_Even to those people he threatened-slash-killed. Pun intended. I don't think so. Granted they were bastards, but that doesn't make it right._

"You tell me to hurt people."

_It's okay when I_ _tell you. I know best and they deserve it. And you don't do it anyway, so it doesn't really count._

Aware of the fact that Squee didn't have his skeletal bodyguard with him anymore, some of the mean kids closed in. A large boy dressed up as some kind of frightening blob thing pushed Squee from behind.

"Hey, shit-buhrains!" he yelled. He laughed when Squee hit the rough ground. "How come you have so much candy?"

"It's cuz his _boyfriend_ gave it to him. Oh, la, la," sniggered a girl dressed up as an alien. One of her pipe-cleaner antennas fell off.

The kids shrieked like monkeys and started to crunching and gulping away at Squee's pile of candy.

"Stop that!" Squee cried as his pile dwindled. "That's mine!"

"Nuh-uh. It's in my bag, so it's mine. Ha!" The kid laughed at his own wittiness. _Man, I'm smart._

"Quit it!"

"Quit it!" a kid yelled back, imitating Squee's squeaky voice.

_Do it, Squee. Punch. Kick. Bite their little brains._

"No! Give it back!"

"It's not your candy anymore," yelled a kid. There was a chorus of laughs.

_They laugh at you, Squee. Todd. Do it. Rip out their eyeballs. I can feel your desire to do so in your belly._

"No no no!"

Everyone was laughing and yelling louder. There were more kids picking away at his pile of candy, taking advantage of his weakness. It was getting louder and louder. Parents escorting their kids ignored him like nothing was happening. Louder and louder. No one cared. Squee wanted to curl into a ball and—

"Cry? Are you going to cry, Squeek?" taunted one of the kids through a mouthful of candy.

Shmee's stuffing felt like fire in his pocket. They want your candy? Shove the candy down their gullets until they choke. You know you want to. Feel the hatred. See their hatred. You can see the truth of people.

They were all monsters. Their souls were darkening from cruelty and Squee could see it. He could see their mocking eyes, their blacked cores. He could smell how rotten their minds were, how rotten the world was. Their words were all melding into horrible noise. The world was ugly, twisted, dark and scary. And it was closing in.

_Oh, you want to clean. You want to kill. I will make sure nobody knows. Clean. Kill._

All the jeering cluttering up his brain, making his little boy body tense with sorrow, anger and hatred. He was starting to cry and they were chanting. Shmee's stuffing in his pocket kept repeating his mantra. The bear was giggling madly.

_Clean. Kill. Clean kill clean kill cleankillcleanKILLCLEANKILLCLEANKILL_

Squee has started to throw punches and some kids were hitting him back, but he couldn't see anything. He could only hear laughter, the kids' and Shmee's, ringing in his ears. He could hear Shmee whooping and cheering and he landed a punch. Squee was crying and screaming.

SCREEEEEECH!

There was the noise of tires screeching and kids wailing. There was crashing and the sound of bodies flying. Squee was still blind and every noise made his head pound. A metal door swung open quickly and feet banged on the ground towards him. He felt someone pick him up with painfully sharp fingers digging into his arms. He flailed and wriggled to get loose of the agonizing grip. Whoever it was started shaking him, digging his fingers deeper, and shouting something.

"Let me go! Let me go!" he screamed as he punched and kicked in the stranger's grasp. His foot connected with something and he heard whomever it was grunt and stiffen. One clear word made its way through the din in Squee's head.

"Ow," the voice growled.

"Mommy! Mommeeee!"

_No. Noo! Stay with me, Squee!_

The stranger's words became clearer.

"Wake up! Wake up, Squee!" the stranger was yelling. The voice sounded raspy, dangerous and pained. It sounded so familiar.

_It's a trick!_ Shmee hissed inside the boy's head. _He's trying to take you away to do evil things._

"Open your eyes!" the stranger yelled. "For the love of God, Squee. Stop this!"

"Go away!" Squee yelled. "Shmee, help me!"

"The bear!" the voice shouted incredulously. "The fucking bear? Where is he?"

Don't let him take me, Squee! He's taking me, Squee!

"No! Don't take him!" Squee shrieked. He felt Shmee's fiery stuffing leaving his pocket. The stranger had taken it!

"Fuck! It burns my hand!" the stranger screeched in pain.

"Give him back! You meanie!"

The stranger dropped him onto the hard ground and started yelling at Shmee.

"You fucking bear! You evil VOICE! You're just like them aren't you? You're just another of them, AREN'T YOU? YOU SHIT! You're trying to poison Squee. How dare you? He's just a kid and you're just a ball of lint! How dare you? HOW DARE YOU?"

Something burned in Squee's brain. He heard stabbing and Shmee screaming like a wounded devil.

_This isn't over, Johnny C.! I'm still home, Squeegeeee!_

Johnny? Johnny. "Johnny! Nny. Nny!"

The noises returned to their normal volume and the world slowly came back into focus. It was still blurry, but only because Squee's tears made it so. His eyes burned and his face stung. He could taste the blood from a wound on his lip and the pain in his arms. They were probably bruising right now. He could see a dirty, grey car parked in the middle of the street. It had rushed here and left black, smoking tracks on the street. There were kids littered around moaning in pain. He could see some lights on in nearby houses and people looking out of windows, but not doing anything about the carnage in the street. His pile of candy was gone save for very few half-eaten pieces. He could see Johnny on all fours screaming and stabbing a ball of Shmee's cotton stuffing into tiny pieces of fluff. A spark would occasionally rise from the contact, but it was hard to tell whether it came from the knife hitting the road or from the pieces of stuffing breaking apart.

"One of them," Johnny was hissing as he stabbed. His stabs slowed down and at some point stopped. The maniac was breathing heavily and unevenly. He choked with held back tears and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Just a kid."

**End Chapter 3**

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**Once again, please tell me if I misspelled anything.**

**--Exit**


	4. Emotional Vomit

**A Very Spoooky Halloween**

**This is the final chapter. The chapter in which the stuff I am writing ends.  
It was fun.**

**To **Doomed-Fan-Girl**: Huh? What site? Just give me credit or something for it.**

**This chapter contains emotional vomit for a the first half. If you don't like emotions, vomit or words, don't read it. This chapter also has injured kids, an exploding car, holiday-related commercialism, deals with the Devil and freaking out by Johnny's part.**

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**Chapter 4: Emotional Vomit **

The October breeze made the fragments of Shmee's stuffing blow into the air or disappear into the street. It made the knife in a crazy man's hand grow cold. The hand clenched the handle of the knife until his fingers felt numb. He couldn't relax; he was too full of fury and self-disgust for his carelessness, for allowing something perhaps irrevocably bad to happen to a friend. Johnny sat back on his heels, pulling at his hair and allowing for the hateful feelings he held towards himself sink in. He could feel something warm and stinging slide down his face.

He lifted up his face and looked at the little boy huddled in the middle of the street. He was crying too, but out of fear and confusion.

"Squee..." Johnny said quietly.

The little boy crawled over to the killer, choking out his name between sobs. Johnny froze when he felt the child's arms around him. He still hated being touched, even if it was the desperate hug of a terrified child. Johnny managed to fight off his reflex to push Squee away. Instead, he put his arms around him and carried him into his car. He set him down in the passenger's seat. Squee started crying into his torn upholstery.

The killer gripped his steering wheel until his knuckles became white beneath his gloves. He started hitting his head on the steering wheel repeatedly. He was punishing himself for leaving and letting the bear get to him. Why was Squee carrying that stuffing with him? Didn't he trust him?

"Th-they took my candy," Squee sobbed. The boy sat up and wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve, but it wasn't helping. "They called me names and then they t-took my candy. I told them to stop, but they never listen to me. They never do."

Johnny stopped hitting himself to reach into his backpack and take out a Kleenex to offer Squee. The child took it and blew his nose. Johnny recommenced hitting his head on the steering wheel.

"And Shmee started saying things. He wanted me to hurt them. And everything turned ugly and scary and then it went black. And everything went loud and I couldn't think."

This was all sounding horrifyingly familiar to Johnny. Voices egging him to kill, horrible taunting from everyone, the bleak and hideous world... This was his area of expertise. He didn't want a child to experience anything in it. "I know how you feel," he said weakly.

Squee sniffed and choked, trying to contain more tears. "I know."

"Squeegee," Johnny said tentatively, "are you afraid of me?"

The crazy man felt the answer was obvious. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear him say it to be confirmed. Squee was staring at him with wide, teary eyes. The kid was afraid of answering and it hurt.

"You do," the killer said.

The boy paused and then spoke. "Yes."

Johnny felt angry and he battled voices in his head telling him to kill the child. No, Squee had a reason to be scared. As much as he hated the fact that he instilled fear in the child was unbearable, it was true. Of course it was true. Squee would have to be either stupid or as cripplingly handicapped as he was.

"And do you trust me? Does your fear for me make me untrustworthy? Do I become another monster in your world?"

The boy paused to think. At first, his mind went to yes, but as he delved deeper into his feelings towards the killer. Johnny scared him; that was blindingly clear. But fear and trust didn't have to be invariably linked. He could count on the killer to protect him from evil things just like he could trust in Shmee to work as his trauma sponge. Johnny, as evil as he seemed, cared about Squee, something that almost nobody did. Johnny had gone out with him tonight because he cared, searched his candy for unpleasant surprises because he cared, and went off to get his car so they could get Brainfreezies because he cared. Johnny did anything bad to him purposely. When the killer had come back to find that he was having some sort of mental breakdown, he blamed himself for letting something bad happen to him.

"You-you're scary," Squee started, unable to look Johnny in the eyes. Maybe if he didn't look at him, he wouldn't kill him. "And you do very, very bad things a lot. And killing is bad. Sometimes you say things that give me nightmares and that's not nice. I guess you should be an evil thing in my head."

He looked up and saw that Johnny had buried his forehead into the steering wheel and was staring down at the floor of his car with narrowed eyes and not blinking. He didn't say anything. Squee felt like he was digging his own grave.

"But you're not bad all the time. I mean, you're really, really bad, but it isn't the same bad as everyone else. I don't know how it works exactly, but I know it isn't. You do nice things sometimes. Like when you make sure that I have a lunch to take to school if Mom doesn't make one. Sometimes you're nice like when you wanted to make sure I was safe tonight."

"But I failed at that," hissed Johnny, breaking his silence.

The killer straightened up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Squee could see that he was fighting a homicidal urge. He still wasn't looking at Squee.

"It's really hard to trust you... but sometimes it kinda feels like my parents should be more like you," the child offered helpfully. "You care about me. I don't like the stuff you do, but… but… I don't hate you."

Johnny blinked in disbelief. He hadn't expected to hear that. 'I don't hate you.' The absence of that feeling was something alien. Johnny's past was a blurry, fading mess. He wouldn't be able to remember a time when somebody had said something like that even if he wanted too. His whole life stunk of hatred: his voices, his victims and himself. Psychodoughboy and Mr. Fuck spoke of how awful he was and everyone else was. The victims, of course, were obvious. They were all so slimy and disgusting, hating everything and, just before themselves, focusing on hating him.

Squee couldn't be lying. Squee was Squee. Even though he was afraid of Johnny, he wouldn't have been able to say that in that achingly honest voice if it wasn't true. It boggled the mind.

"You--" Johnny said with sputtering confusion. "You-you can't just _say_ that. You can't just _not_ hate me. God. When I think I have something figured out and you just go and say that and I-I... I... Oh, God. S-someone doesn't hate me. Someone _doesn't_ hate me."

He suddenly fell silent and after some uncomfortable quietness, started to laugh. It was soft at first, sounding like gasps of air, but it started growing. Soon he was laughing quite loudly, hysterically. It was out of relief. It was out of the fact that whatever invisible force that made his very existence unbearable was defeated, at least for now. He covered his mouth and tried to stifle his laughter, almost pushing himself to the point of suffocation when he decided that not breathing would be the easiest way of stopping. Even though he eventually managed to stop laughing, he couldn't help the smile that had cracked on his face.

"It feels good to be happy," he said. "This is such a rare feeling for me. It feels like my insides are going to explode."

Johnny looked outside thoughtfully at the night sky. Squee simply looked out the window and dried his tears. They hadn't driven anywhere yet. Their whole emotional confessions had taken place inside the car parked at a strange angle parked in the middle of the street full of semi-conscious children. Squee could see some of them getting up, walking a few steps and then falling back down because the splinters that held their leg-bones together just gave way. It made a shudder-inducing snapping sound and the injured kid broke into loud wails and screams as it fell back down on the road.

It was cold inside the car, almost as cold as outside. He could see his breath curling in the air before him. Squee grew colder as he grew aware of it. His teeth were starting to chatter. His arms still hurt from where Johnny had picked him up. He was sure he was going to find many ugly bruises tomorrow. Or maybe they'd fall off.

"Squee," Johnny said, calling back the boy's attention. "It is perfectly understandable that you fear me. I haven't given you any reasons not to be afraid. But that you can see something that's not entirely bad in me is... I don't know. It's hard to describe, but it means that there is still some hope for you. Even with Shmee hanging around."

"Shmee isn't bad," he said timidly, still determined to defend his stuffed bear despite past occurences.

"Of course you think that. I have a couple of doughboys… I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned them to you. Oh, well. The point is that they used to give advice, but lately it's been feeling like it's off, like they want me to do something for _them_ instead of doing something for my own well-being. The funny thing is that you won't know until you become like me." Johnny paused. It wasn't that funny. "Don't be like me. It's the last thing you would ever want. The... Everything in my life... it's all wretched and doomed to something even worse. No, you're a good kid. You shouldn't have to be like me. You should grow up to be able to be happy. You don't have to listen to the things Shmee says, even if they sound good or helpful. The best thing to do would be to rely on what you think is best, not what some external source says."

"I don't listen to him sometimes," Squee replied. He paused for a moment and then asked curiously, fearfully, "Is-is that how it happened to you?"

Johnny's smile fell as he searched for an answer for that question. He held his head in one of his claw-like, gloved hands, feeling uncomfortable with the only response his mind would yield: nothing. "Maybe. It's been getting worse lately. I think it has something to do with the wall."

"Wall?" Squee decided he didn't want to go into the subject. It would probably give him nightmares. "Can we turn up the heat?"

Johnny suddenly realized he was sitting inside his car. "Where were we going?"

"Brainfreezies," Squee muttered. He decided to put on his seatbelt because he wasn't sure whether he could trust Johnny to drive carefully. "Can we?"

"Can we what?" Johnny said as he looked for the keys. He hit himself in the head good-naturedly when he realized they were still in the ignition.

"Can we turn up the heat?"

"No," Johnny said as he tried to turn the car on. The car whirred and didn't move. "Bitch. If we do, the car will fill with gasoline-smelly gas. Work, goddamn you! And then we'll suffocate. Fucking car! You don't want to turn on! Try wrapping the cape around yourself if you want to be warm, Squee."

Johnny gave the car a powerful punch, the metallic insides rattled, and the exhaust pipe putted. The maniac smiled and forgot his rage.

"Where were we going? ...oh, yeah."

And the car took off. Squee whimpered as he heard cries of children as Johnny ran over them for a second time. Now Squee was really glad he had decided to wear his seatbelt.

It was only a matter of time before they reached the actual city. Johnny drove erratically, sometimes calmly and safely and sometimes zig-zagging at full speed. It was a miracle that they hadn't crashed into a lamppost by now. However, Johnny had run over several people.

"Serves them right for cutting me off when I'm getting a Brainfreezy," Johnny said as a car exploded into flames behind them.

Squee was thankful to get out of the car. Johnny's car had uncomfortable seats and when you paid attention, smelled faintly of something coppery and unpleasant.

The 24/7 was your seemingly average convenience store. It was a plain building with a blinking neon sign. You could see the cashier looking bored and reading a magazine through the large window. The glass doors and windows were half covered in posters suggesting they try their pickled churros and how they could get fresh nachos for a dollar more than the price for their normal nachos.

The store had to replace its staff a lot more than other convenience stores, but nobody noticed much. They just assumed that it was just the regular staff quitting their crappy, low-paying jobs. Actually, there was many an employee who had to be taken away in an ambulance or, more commonly, a hearse. The cause of death was a disgruntled customer that always complained very aggressively about how the Brainfreezy machine was off or how they had run out of cherry Fiz-Wiz. Somebody kept meaning and forgetting to tell the employees to not turn of the machines at 2 AM and leave them on all night for their own safety.

Fortunately, it was 10:54 PM right now. Maybe their cashier wouldn't suffer badly tonight.

They went through the doors. The cashier glanced at them as the dinging sound rang and went back to reading _6 Ways to Be Less Lame_. The article suggested she buy more of their magazines and wear a paper bag over her head (available by the same company that printed the magazine and in Dirt Brown or Dooky Brown). The 24/7 had orange and black Halloween decorations and Halloween-themed candy everywhere. But that didn't mean it was too early for there to be Thanksgiving cutouts of turkeys hanging between the bats and witches.

Johnny led his young companion to the Brainfreezy machine. Squee grimaced at the two alternative flavors to Cherry Doom: Frosty Peanut and Icy Ham. Peanut butter was okay, but he didn't want chunks of smushy, peanuty ice in a cup. Icy Ham was wrong on many levels. Next to that machine was the special machine they had put in with the special holiday flavor: Injun Turkey. The store had decided that Halloween night was a good enough night to replace the Halloween flavor (Spooky Pumpkin) with the Thanksgiving one.

"I tried Spooky Pumpkin last week," Johnny commented as he grabbed a cup. "It sucked."

The red slush whizzed into the cups with a little red, cold spray.

"You can get some candy too, if you'd like," Johnny suggested as he remembered that Squee's had be stolen. He felt through his pockets for money and started counting it.

"We still have to get the milk," Squee said.

"I'll take care of that," Johnny said. "You just get your candy."

Squee nodded shyly and headed towards the candy section. As he passed in front of the window, he noticed a familiar creamy white car parked outside. He saw an equally familiar horned child looking through the chocolates with his father. He tried to turn away and ask Johnny if they could leave, but it was useless.

"Good evening, Todd," said Mr. Diablo when he spotted him.

Satan was a tall, yellow, skeletal, scary figure. His skin was pulled tightly over his skull and horns curved out of the sides. He could paralyze you with a simple green-eyed glance. Sulfurous flames sprang from the ground where he stepped. His voice was as deep as the Abyss and could make your bones shake inside you body.

But you wouldn't be able to tell because, at that moment, he looked like an average middle-aged man with a comb-over and wearing work clothes.

"Hi," Squee said back.

"My son has informed me you still have no desire to join our army. It's a pity, really."

Squee shrugged and tried not to shake too visibly as he reached out for a moderately-priced bag of candy.

"You're not going to buy _that_, are you, Squee?" Pepito said with his snout-like nose wrinkling in disgust.

"I like this candy," Squee said.

"Father, I desire my friend to have better than that," the Antichrist told Satan.

"Now, son. He says he likes it. Let him have it."

"Squee," Johnny called.

The killer walked into the aisle and looked suspiciously at Pepito and Mr. Diablo. His grip on two Brainfreezies and a bag of Señor Salsa Chips tightened. Given Squee's past with skoolkids, the short, strange looking horned boy couldn't be good news. It was hard to contain his anger and it came out in his voice, scaring Squee.

"Are you okay?" Johnny said with a voice seething with dangerous anger.

Squee nodded quickly and showed him the bag of candy. Johnny grunted and headed for the cash register.

"Who was that?" the killer asked, looking back at the two figures. "A kid from skool? Do you need me to get the car?"

"'S fine," Squee murmured back. "That's Satan and the Antichrist, but his name's Pepito. He's in my class."

"You don't say," Johnny said with eyes narrowing and suspicion rising.

The girl at the register was crying her eyes out and talked to her friend over a cell phone. Her voice came out muffled, as she had decided to take the magazine's advice and put a paper bag over her head. She didn't pay attention when Johnny placed their items on the counter. She didn't notice when Johnny told her that they were paying. She still didn't notice when Johnny repeated himself with a distinctly miffed tone. She didn't have time to notice since she was wailing incoherently about how she wasn't as thin as she was supposed to be. Johnny was about to start an angry rant culminating in bloody murder when he felt a small tap on his shoulder.

"What?" he asked nastily, angry at being interrupted and touched.

Mr. Diablo was standing behind him, smirking and being, much to Johnny's surprise, neither annoyed nor afraid. Maybe he _was_ Satan.

"Since Squee is in my son's class, what say I pay?" Mr. Diablo offered.

"Depends," Johnny said. "Do I have to give you my soul?"

Pepito's father looked at him straight in the eye. Johnny froze as he felt the strange sensation of someone looking into your soul.

"I've no need," Mr. Diablo finally said, "for a soul I can't take."

The Antichrist huffed disappointedly next to his father and crossed his arms across his chest.

"There are plenty more, though," he continued and patted his son's Mohawk. "Take your things while me and the cashier talk business."

Johnny blinked and grabbed his stuff. Squee followed him outside. In the 24/7, Mr. Diablo turned to the girl with his eyes glowing diabolical green.

"How do you feel about beauty for your soul?" the Devil said with the smooth talking of an experienced businessman.

The girl lifted the paper bag and sniffed. Mascara tears were running down her cheeks and giving her a very Halloweeny look. "I'm okay with it."

They were sitting on the hood of Johnny's grey car in their eerie, quiet street. They were both sucking on their Brainfreezies and sharing the bag of candy. They were looking at the sky in the general direction of the city.

The tall buildings jumped out of the horizon and their lit windows speckled them with bright spots. There was light pollution, but it was an artificial-colored dome around the city that faded into the darkness of the true night. There was the right amount of clouds in the sky to give it a proper spooky feel and the moon, as cliché as it seemed, was as full and round as an eyeball. It was a whimsical clash between chaotic, artificial civilization and indifferent nature.

"It's pretty," Squee said.

"Yeah," Johnny agreed.

"It was a nice night."

"It's still night," Johnny pointed out before realizing what Squee meant. "Oh. Well, not exactly."

"Stuff like that happens to me all the time. It's not your fault."

The little boy yawned as they neared midnight, a time way past Squee's normal bedtime. Tonight had been full of activity and, despite the amount of sugar he had consumed he was sleepy. Johnny and the little vampire walked to house #779. Squee decided to not go through a window like Johnny wanted to.

"This was... pleasant in some ways," Johnny said as he passed Squee the milk Mr. Casil had ordered him to bring. "Maybe we could do it again next year."

"Um..."

Johnny suddenly looked up at the sky with wide, fearful eyes. There was a sound of something whizzing by above them.

"Fuck! I forgot that it's Tuesday!"

Johnny ran home and slammed the door behind him. Squee screamed, let the bottles of milk shatter on the stoop and rushed to his room to hide under the covers.

Itwasn't October 32nd, as many kids at the Skool thought. It was November 1st. Squee and Pepito were sitting at their lunch table.

"We had so much work yesterday," Pepito groaned as he stabbed his 'food' with his fork. "Why Halloween? Why?"

Pepito proceeded to abuse his food until it was reduced to ashes before paying attention to Squee.

"Sorry I couldn't go with you," the Antichrist said. "How was your Halloween?"

Squee opened his bagged lunch and said, "It was okay."

**End A Very Spoooky Halloween**

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**Wasn't that nice?  
I hope I get inspired to write some more fanfiction. This felt pretty nice.**

**And now for some Frank Sinatra:**  
And now, the end is near, and so I face, the final curtain.  
My friend, I'll say it clear,  
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.  
I've lived, a life that's full, I've traveled each and every highway.  
And more, much more than this,  
I did it my way.

**I'm dramatic,  
--Exit**


End file.
